Birthday
by DystopianDuckie
Summary: Sherlock has never had a birthday party - a fact that his good friend John Watson soon hopes to resolve! Just a belated piece of birthday fluff for my friend - hope you enjoy Jessachu!
1. Chapter 1

"I'm afraid you are unlikely to see me tomorrow so happy birthday brother dear."

"_Birthday?" _John scoffed as he started to choke on his tea.

"Don't sound so surprised, how did you think I ended up on this earth?"

"It is a commonly held belief that you were dreamt into existence by some higher being. Even I have trouble imagining you as a child and I was there for a great deal of it. How anyone else is supposed to cope I have no idea."

"Are you having a party?"

"Why would I do that?" Genuine confusion crossed over Sherlock's face – not something that John had often seen in his features. It was strange, that a man so brilliant could be puzzled by such a simple thing. Even the stupidest of humans knew the protocol for birthdays and he figured he would just have to file it away along with the solar system as topics that the detective would never quite grasp.

"Because it's your birthday." John hoped that he wasn't going to have to spell this out but even so it was like he was talking to his newborn: slowing his words and gesturing with his hands. Sometimes it felt like the baby knew more about this stuff than Sherlock did – or maybe he'd just had plenty of practice during his years at Baker Street. In comparison the baby was child's play. It took a great deal to throw John Watson these days.

"Birthdays are a pointless and over-commercialised waste of time and money solely brought about by sentiment and as I am sure you are aware sentiment is..."

"...a chemical defect found on the losing side, I know." He silently hoped that Sherlock didn't notice the rolling of his eyes. He did, of course, Sherlock noticed everything. "Was he like this as a child?"

"Unbearably so." Mycroft sighed. "He has never found cause to celebrate the anniversary of his entrance to this world."

"So you've never had a birthday party?" Despite everything he knew about Sherlock the man still managed to surprise him. John had known many a child who despised the ordeal of a party but they had still had them at the insistence of their parents. He had met Sherlock's parents. They were normal. So how had he gotten away with it for this long? "Not ever? A cake maybe?" He was clutching at straws now but a cake would at least be _something_. It wasn't natural for a man to get this far through life without some form of celebration.

"No."

A small smile crept onto John's lips and soon spread to Mycroft's. Little did Sherlock, already absorbed in his mind palace, know that it was all about to change. Tomorrow would mark his first proper birthday in all the long years of his life


	2. Chapter 2

_Molly I need your help with a party. – JW_

_Not good with parties. Why can't Mary help? – MH_

_She's looking after the baby. – JW_

_I'm at work. – MH_

_It's a party for Sherlock. – JW_

_;) – JW_

_My shift finishes in five. Meet me in the canteen? – MH_

_On my way. Thanks. – JW _

John had, of course, been to Bart's plenty of times on a variety of cases but it wasn't quite the same without Sherlock striding along beside him, his coat flowing down the corridors as he flicked the collar up. He could be a right git sometimes but it didn't stop him missing him. Not that it was Sherlock's fault – he was currently on a case that John had turned down, feigning childcare needs. It was a good excuse – he had been away a lot since the baby was born. Even so he felt a small thrill at being able to pull the wool over the eyes of the Great Sherlock Holmes.

Molly handed him a coffee as a greeting and he was surprised to find that it was his favourite kind. It would seem Sherlock had been rubbing off on her more than he thought, picking up the little secrets to his trade. He had misjudged her; put her down as just a mousy pathologist that Sherlock bribed with a flash of a smile whenever he wanted a body. He'd probably never understand her, see what went on behind the nervous stutters and flushed cheeks, and somewhere in his heart he regretted this. He wasn't like Sherlock. He couldn't read a person's story from a look.

"Why are we throwing a party?" She sounded tired and dark rings shadowed her eyes. He didn't know her schedule like Sherlock did but it didn't take a genius to figure out she had had a long day - they really did work people too hard here.

"It's his birthday tomorrow."

"He doesn't celebrate it." She rolled her eyes slightly, too polite to complain at him wasting her time. She was tired and the last thing she wanted was to make an effort for a man that didn't want or need it. _At least, that's what she kept telling herself._

"He is tomorrow." Molly smiled. She had to admit that John had a certain way of bringing the best out of Sherlock – he really was lucky to have such great friends.

"What did you have in mind?"

"A proper birthday party: games, cake, maybe a clown." They both laughed at this, the tired and disbelieving tone that was so fitting for what they had planned. John had figured he wouldn't be planning a birthday party until his own child needed one. _In a peculiar way the current situation wasn't that different._

"Sounds fun."

"So you're in?" John couldn't help asking her to confirm. He felt bad asking – she had a lot on – but he needed her help if this was going to work. It seemed that sometimes he had to use the same tactics as Sherlock to get things done.

"Yeah I can sort some of the stuff out for you. Does he know?"

"No, it's a surprise. Well... I haven't told him. I never really know what surprises Sherlock." They smiled again at this. Neither of them would ever be truly sure what went on in that man's brain.

"I've got something in mind for the end, a last game. That can be my surprise to you."

"Will you be fine sorting it on your own?" Concern filled his voice. He was already asking her to give up her time – she shouldn't be offering him more; it was too much. "I know you have a lot to do here."

"I'll get Graham to help."

"_Graham?" _

"Yeah, Graham Lestrade, works down at Scotland yard."

"Oh, _Graham!" _


	3. Chapter 3

"John, I'm back!" Sherlock called as he let the door to 221b swing shut and started up the stairs two at a time. His hands, almost on autopilot, reached up and swiftly untied the blue scarf from his neck, ready to throw down when he entered the flat.

But something triggered alarms in his head as he crossed the threshold and the scarf remained in his hand, forgotten and unimportant. Granted, they were somewhat small alarms, faint breaths from the kitchen and behind his chair. A client? Intruders?

A snigger echoed around the flat – briefly, but not briefly enough. Not intruders then. They didn't tend to snigger.

Sherlock had to admit a tiny part of him was disappointed – at least a few intruders would have made the day less... boring.

"I know you're th..."_ ere, I can hear you breathing._

"Surprise!" Figures jumped out from all angles and for half a second Sherlock was genuinely caught off-guard – not that he would ever admit it. For some insane and unfathomable reason his 'friends' (he was still adamant he had only one) surrounded him dressed in a frankly ridiculous array of pirate attire. The only explanation conjured up by his abnormally talented brain was that this must have something to do with _the _birthday. (He had never acknowledged it therefore he adamantly refused to believe it was _his._)

"Well this is... unexpected." It took the detective slightly longer than usual to find the words for what he wanted to say. Some would have called him speechless, if that wasn't such a strange thing to call the one and only Sherlock Holmes.

"In a good way or a bad way?" John asked, more than a little apprehensive as to how his friend would react. Sherlock had always enjoyed a good long sulk and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"In a good way, thank you John. It was nice of you all to turn out, despite the pointless nature of this occasion. Your presence here is welcome." Sherlock was glad to see he had regained the powers of his speech, stringing out the words in a long stream of sounds.

"Well don't get too touching with us, mate, we're only here for the cake!" Lestrade called out from across the room.

They were all here. Everyone he cared about (and some that he didn't) in the world had gathered in one room to celebrate together. Kind of like his funeral really. Lestrade was joined by Anderson and Donovan under the arch that separated off the kitchen, blocking his view of what lay within. Crowded around his chair where Mrs Hudson, Molly and, of course, John, smiling like this was the best day of his life.

Only one person was missing.

"Where's Mary?" The words had barely left his lips when she entered through the door to the flat, carrying a squirming baby in her arms. Despite his attempt to convince others that he disliked children he had to admit she was cute. The smiles she brought to her parents' faces were well deserved too – especially after all he had put them through over the years.

"Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived." She apologised. "We thought Rose would have cried and ruined the whole thing."

As she made her way across the flat to stand with her husband Sherlock realised he was still standing near the doorway. He hadn't moved since this whole thing began.


	4. Chapter 4

"I hate to rush things, dears, but the tea is getting cold." Mrs Hudson's reminder was enough to prompt them all into action, converging on the kitchen.

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper!" Sherlock said and the old woman hit him on the arm.

"I'm not!" She protested but she was still smiling. "But today is your birthday so special allowances can be made."

He entered the small kitchen and was met with the most colourful array of food he had ever seen in his life. Biscuit rings covered with icing ranging from red to blue to yellow to green with drizzles of other colours contrasting the base coat. At least four types of jelly wobbled on their plates, moulded into what looked like a robot, a spaceship, a skull and something that even Sherlock couldn't recognise. The counter to his left was almost entirely taken up with an enormous platter of sandwiches and he couldn't help but notice the tiny triangles with their crusts cut off and their edges neatly cut.

But it was the cake which was the crowning glory.

It was a pirate ship, complete with cannons and four icing sails proudly displaying the mark of the skull that set the ship apart from all others on the high seas. Tiny sailors had been crafted and stood proudly on the deck, crowding around what could only be the dead body of one of their former crew. It had pirates and it had murder; he had to hand it to them, it was perfect.

Molly and Mrs Hudson hovered nervously by the cake, watching him as he leant down to get a better view. It hardly took a genius to deduce that they were responsible given the facts._That and Sherlock had never exactly seen John or Mary bake before. _No, it had to be Molly and Mrs Hudson -_ unless Gordon Lestrade had a secret passion. Possible, the balance of probability was not on his side_

"Normally I would disencourage you from following the crushing oppression of gender stereotypes forced upon you from birth but, in this case, it would be a travesty for you to do so, therefore, please continue." Sherlock said to Molly as he looked up from the cake some moments later. He had critiqued the icing and even solved the murder ***** - a sure sign that his game wasn't slipping after all.

"I take it you like the cake?" Molly sounded nervous, but that was nothing new when it came to Sherlock. There was a hint of something else in her voice as she asked him, though, something he didn't hear from her very often... pride.

"Yes... Thank you." Sherlock managed to stumble out. He wasn't used to thanking people, it wasn't something that Sherlock _did._ Not in ways that others would recognise anyhow. "Mrs Hudson. Molly."

"Oh... it's... well. It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Molly smiled and handed Sherlock a knife. Part of him was reluctant to cut into something so carefully crafted but the heavy scent of the icing was almost as good as his usual hits.

He took the dead sailor off just in case, though, a tiny memento for later and another dead body to put John off snooping in the fridge.

*****It was simple, really. One of the sailors had pristine hair and a faint moisture mark on the deck beneath him despite it not having rained – clear signs that he had washed recently. There was really no reason for a man stuck on a ship for months at a time to take notice of their cleanly hygiene resulting in the only solution that the man had needed to wash _something_ off his clothes. The _something _being blood, the dead man's blood if they had been given access to forensic labs on a pirate ship in the high seas during the mid seventeenth century.


	5. Chapter 5

When everyone had eaten and was full, or as full as Sherlock ever allowed himself to be, they all moved back into the sitting room. It was a bit of a squeeze to fit them all in; the sofas were soon full and Donovan even had to sit on the floor.

_Served her right for calling him a freak. _

Sherlock wasn't really sure what happened next. If he had ever known anything about children's birthday parties he had almost certainly deleted the information to make room for something more... _useful_. Either way, his mind palace was drawing a blank.

Mrs Hudson busied herself out of the room and down the stairs to her own flat but Sherlock hardly paid her a moment's thought. She was always rushing around somewhere, making him tea, fetching him biscuits. For someone who claimed not to be his housekeeper she certainly did a lot of running around for him. He had often wondered whether she had some kind of agreement with his mother, or, failing that, Mycroft. They were always finding new ways to spy on him.

Not that he minded – free biscuits weren't to be argued with.

She came back a few minutes later carrying a large tea tray scattered with a strange assortment of items and a white sheet. The old woman had clearly gone mad. Frankly Sherlock was surprised it had taken this long, especially living in the same building as him. He was told he had that kind of effect on people.

"Ah, good. Time to play some games." John stood up from the chair, his chair – obviously – and cleared a space on the table so Mrs Hudson could place the tray down.

"You should probably explain the rules – I don't think Molly has played before." Mary said as she bounced little Rose on her knee in an attempt to keep the baby calm. Rose's cheeks were still covered in cake and her tiny fingers sticky from the icing, but neither of her parents seemed to mind. They had done a good job raising her so far, but, then again, they had been parents since long before she was born. They had already had plenty of practice.

Sherlock was in no doubt that Molly had played whatever game this may be, but he took the opportunity to mask his ignorance. When thrown a lifeline he wasn't going to insist on remaining aboard the sinking ship.

"You'll have thirty seconds to memorise the objects on the tray before the sheet is put over them. Mrs Hudson will then remove one of the items. When the sheet is removed you have to guess which object is missing." John addressed the whole room, including a bored looking Donovan in the corner.

"Simple enough." Sherlock was confident that he could succeed at this game, win even. It wasn't exactly hard to remember a few simple objects, especially as they were all from around the flats of 221 Baker Street and therefore made up many of the key locations of his mind palace.

His skull, for example, housed all of his memories and knowledge of John Hamish Watson – using one companion to store the other. His test tube rack was mainly used for Molly, although, he had to admit, she had an annoying habit of turning up when least expected. Like when Mary shot him. He still couldn't really explain that one away. Not that he tried – he had learnt that sometimes it was better to give up before getting too involved in a train of thought. Days could be wasted otherwise.

"Time starts now." Mrs Hudson said as she looked down at her wrist and the watch that rested there.

It only took Sherlock ten seconds to fully map out the contents of the tray, leaving him with a full twenty to simply observe his companions. People often asked how he did his _trick,_ but it was surprisingly simple (given you had the memory to sustain it), all you had to do was take a step back and observe the world around you once in a while. He even did it with people he knew – his closest _friends_ – just to make sure that nothing had changed.

It rarely did, but it paid off to be sure. Just in case.

The twenty seconds passed and the white sheet dropped over the items. Mrs Hudson signalled for them all to turn around so that she could take one of the items away.

"You can turn round-"

"Light bulb!" Sherlock shouted, cutting her off.

"What? He cheated!" Donovan moaned, having only just managed to turn around by the time Sherlock had called the answer.

"He didn't _cheat,_ Sally." Lestrade assured her.

But they covered his eyes the next time.

Just in case.


	6. Chapter 6: Clowning Around

Another knock sounded at the door to the flat.

"Who the hell is it this time?" Sherlock asked as he won yet another game. They had started blind folding him for the whole thing now - a precaution that Donovan had insisted. Of course. She was just too idiotic to realise how much of an idiot she was.

"Don't be like that dear." Mrs Hudson warned softly.

Sherlock didn't care that he was being rude. The only people who could possibly want to visit him were already crowded around him, complaining that he was winning the game. Again.

Honestly, it's not like it was exactly difficult.

"I'll get it." John said and passed the baby back to Mary. "Just play another round of the game." He rushed off to answer the door, a little flustered if you asked Sherlock.

No-one did, of course.

"Fine but he can't play this time!" Donovan moaned and pointed at Sherlock from her seat on the floor.

"Sally I do feel the need to remind you that this is neither your birthday nor your flat." The detective spun round and said in his deduction voice. "If you wish to remain here I suggest you shut up." That certainly put her in her place.

He repressed a smirk. Not for her benefit but to protect his cheek bones from the force of her punch. She hadn't snapped yet but it was only a matter of time.

"If you're all ready..." Mrs Hudson prompted and they turned so our backs faced the sheet. Mary held the baby in front of his eyes and even he had to admit that Sherlock Jnr was cute.

Sherlock had been slowly but surely teaching her to sign, a valuable life skill that passed the hours when he was 'baby-sitting' and John and Mary had gone out. Sherlock Jnr had picked it up with surprising ease - she may not have carried his genes but he was sure she carried his talent.

Not that he'd told her parents that - no need to worry them after all.

"Mary as much as I tolerate Sherlock Jnr I would at least prefer her face as opposed to her back." If his calculations were correct (and they always were) she was fast getting ready for a nappy change and he definitely didn't want to be on the receiving end of that.

"We did not name our child after you, Sherlock!" Mary told Sherlock for the billionth time.

"That's where you went wrong! What kind of a name is Amy Rose?"

"A normal one!" They had been through this countless times and no doubt would until the Watsons relented and changed the name. (Sherlock had complete faith that they would.)

"Wait until she's older and see which she prefers." He had already asked her (in sign of course) but he figured it wasn't a good idea to let Mary in on their little secret just yet.

What she didn't know couldn't consciously hurt her. It was better for everyone if he tried to hide human side that the infant was bringing out in him.

They had been surprised the first time they left Sherlock with Amy. Surprised that she had been fed and changed and even sung to sleep (no way would he admit that now).

"Looking after her brings out the best in you." Mary pondered as Donovan started screaming about how she had won.

"It has to. Raising a baby is hardly clowning around."

A/N: Sorry this chapter was really bad and nothing like I planned but the characters kinda stole it. (Did you know you can actually teach babies to sign!?)


	7. Chapter 7: You're a Wizard John

John opened the door to the flat and motioned for the visitor to step back out into the landing. He needed to prepare himself and the 'guest' for any number of possible reactions from the birthday boy.

They spoke in hushed voices before finally entering the flat moments later. The rest of Sherlock's friends were still playing the game, allowing them a few precious minutes to set everything up.

"I can start in five if it's alright with ya?" The man asked in a thick London accent.

"That would be perfect, thanks." John replied and slipped seamlessly back into the crowd of his friends.

"Who was it?" Sherlock asked, having already memorized the items and grown tired of the game. Donovan was annoying him even more than usual (a real achievement). She had been a sour loser but it was nothing compared to this.

"You're the famous detective, you work it out." John shot back at him as he took the baby from Mary and laughed at Molly's joke. She was standing close to Lestrade and if he hadn't known better John would have said there was something going on between them.

It would be about time too: they both deserved someone that could love them back after all this time.

Sherlock scrunched his face up at John and sighed. Needless to say he turned and studied the man now occupying their living room, clueing for looks to discover what he could as to his purpose.

Faint smell of turnip.

Intricate turn-ups on his jeans.

Too much product in his hair and...

a Wizard costume.

Wait...

What?

Sherlock had to do a double take to check that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him (A/N: pun intended ;-)) but what he had seen the first time was still correct.

There was a wizard standing by his chair.

What the hell had his blogger been up to now?

"AND NOW, I PRESENT, FOR YOUR UTMOST VIEWING PLEASURE: THE ONE, THE ONLY-"

"-I think we get the picture..." Sherlock mumbled under his breath, making sure that John couldn't hear him. This whole situation was completely and otterly ridiculous but Sherlock could see the amount of effort his friends had invested into making sure he had a good time.

He may have felt no sentiment towards the man-dressed-as-a-wizard still booming out nonsense in the middle of the room but he had started to care for his friends.

He kept his mouth shut. They deserved better than for him to ruin the party.

"AND FOR MY FIRST TRICK..." Sherlock wondered what had driven this man to his current line of work. It didn't take long to figure out: his wife had filed an unpleasant divorce after discovering he was gay and had taken the house in a long and ugly legal battle. He was now reduced to performing lame tricks to groups of sugar-high children. (And the occasional 38 year old when they paid extra.) "I NEED A VOLUNTEER!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pushed John square in the back, knocking his blogger off balance. A smile crossed his face as John stumbled forward, right into the danger zone of the wizarding world.

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME, YOUNG APPRENTICE?" John looked traumatized, a shudder of fear running through him as he glared back at Sherlock. Sherlock just smiled and Mary laughed beside him, the baby in one hand and her phone in the other. There was no way she was ever going to pass up an opportunity to film this.

"Doctor John Watson." John stood up straight as he said it, determined to throw himself whole heartedly into the situation. Regardless of what he did now he would look like an idiot; the least he could do was make Sherlock laugh while he did.

"WELL DR WATSON," the magician boomed again (seriously did this man say everything in capitals?), "I NEED YOU TO DON YOURSELF WITH THIS MAGICAL CLOAK AND WAND SO YOU ARE READY FOR MY FIRST TRICK!" Sherlock sighed deeply but by the end of the exhalation it had become a laugh. John looked like he had stepped right out of a J.K. Rowling novel.

"You're a wizard John!" Sherlock sniggered, causing his blogger to look at him with first surprise, then confusion and then more surprise written all over his face.

"You've seen Harry Potter?"

"Don't be stupid John." Sherlock snapped and it was like John curled himself up into a little ball and retreated from the world. "I've read the books." John smiled.

"I take it the tale of a young wizard was more important than the solar system, then?" When would John stop teasing him about that? He had already explained that his mind could only store so much.

"It was research John. When something becomes as big as Harry Potter there is always a chance of copycats."

"So you read the books incase someone decides to be Voldemort?"

"Unlikely as that situation may seem I can assure you I would be the first person Lestrade would call." Sherlock turned and cast his icy glare on the DI.

"You already are." Lestrade agreed.

"I can't believe this!"

"Yes you can John."

"Yeah, you're right. As always."

The magician cleared his throat and the crowd of friends brought their attention back to him. John wasn't the only volunteer to be called as the act progressed; they even managed to get Sherlock to dress up. The consulting detective was on his best behaviour: he acted surprised when the trick reached its finale (of course he could see right through the magic) and clapped encouragingly even when Donovan took to the makeshift stage.

He even suppressed a laugh when Anderson made idiotic comments behind him. I mean, really, what did that man have to add? The sooner he stopped talking the better; Sherlock could practically feel his IQ plummeting as the seconds went by.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed that last chapter - it was fun to write! please review if you liked it or if there is anything you want me to improve or include in future chapters. (There may be typos as it was written on my phone) **

**The more reviews I get the quicker the update will likely be so if you want more let me know. :-) **


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